


Fold Childhood Clothes Away

by Dameceles



Series: A Marriage Of States [7]
Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Death, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age, Family, Gen, Goodbyes, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dameceles/pseuds/Dameceles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinoka leaves for Nohr, and Takumi remembers- when she'd had long hair, and after she'd cut it short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mogi

Takumi's earliest memory was of his older brother and sister.  
  
They had been playing together in the lush gardens of Shirazaki castle. Hinoka had used her lessons in braiding to weave together garlands of flowers in pink, white, and yellow that had rested atop all of their heads. He remembered how the thick grass had seemed tall compared to his tiny body, how his short legs had struggled to even attempted to run through the green. Then Ryouma had called for them both to try and catch him. Hinoka had shouted and dashed after the challenge, her long red hair waving like a banner behind her.  
  
His child-self had cried out, "Wait!"  
  
And he had stumbled when he tried to run after them. Though the lawn had been soft beneath him, Takumi had wept at being left behind and alone. But what he remembered most clearly was that it hadn't lasted long.  
  
His sister was suddenly there beside him, she told Takumi that they'd catch Ryouma together. Takumi had scrambled to his feet and Hinoka had let him climb upon her back. He'd shrieked with laughter as she'd waveringly stood with his arms wrapped around her shoulders and her arms threaded under his little legs.  
  
He remembered how the flower petals tumbled down her shoulders as she'd tried to run, how the sun caught strands of her hair and caused the red to blaze bright. When Hinoka had slipped and fallen into a flower bed, they'd both laid there and laughed.  
  
When Ryouma had carried them both into the palace, their mother had tutted more over the scrapes on their skin than their dirty, torn clothes.

On the day of his mother's death Takumi had sobbed, inconsolable. Tears ran hot down his face, until his skin had turned raw and his eyes felt gritty from the crying. Eventually he'd tired himself out and had stopped, then Takumi had noticed that though she was in the same room that Hinoka hadn't cried.

But he'd forgotten this observation when Sumeragi had set Takumi in his lap and they'd talked about life, death, and grief— his father's voice had been the softest he'd ever heard it. Their conversation had eventually turned to the question of what one's soul was made of, and Sumeragi had told him about the threads that tied people to the world. That those threads didn't weigh one down like old cobwebs collecting dust, but instead kept one balanced through connections and memories. While Takumi's heart had stayed heavy with fresh grief, the idea that his mother's soul touched his and would be with him forever had given him the courage to fight back his tears.

On the day of the burial that was the custom of Hoshido they had all gathered before the funeral mound which housed generations of kings and queens past, Takumi had bottled his grief up tightly inside. The palanquin holding their mother's body had been marched into the dark by chanting priests and Takumi had squeezed his sisters' hands tightly as a few stray tears escaped. Hinoka's bright hair had been drawn back and tied with a grey ribbon, he had seen her face clearly and the fact that she had not wept. It had been frightening despite how Ryouma had stood beside their father with a ramrod straight back and stony visage similarly tearless— the memory of his sister's lack of tears at their mother's death likely compounded his feelings.

That day it'd seemed as though Hinoka’s open laughter and whims, her fondness of carefree games, had been wrapped with their mother's funeral shrouds and sealed away deep in the earth.

In the months that had passed after the death of Queen Ikona, his sister had instead spent her time either with castle staff or caring for him and Sakura. Sakura had been too young to understand when their mother had died, and with their father and oldest brother busy with affairs of state it seemed the three of them had been left to their own devices. Hinoka had stepped in, did things like reading to their little sister at night and saw that Sakura was well-attended by her nursemaids, while his older sister checked in often with his tutors and bid Takumi goodnight after his night-lantern had been lit. When the sun was overhead Hinoka spent time with the public officials of Shirazaki, made orders for supplies and goods for the townfolk as though she were the queen of Hoshido and not a princess in her girlhood— yet those orders were obeyed.

Although Takumi was only her junior by four years, he'd felt suddenly that Hinoka was entirely too grown for him.

When Takumi was nine years of age, the ceremony for Hinoka attaining womanhood took place at the height of summer as the day had the signs of good luck and longevity. Hinoka at three-and-ten had been much taller than he, all thin long limbs and wild red hair— it'd made Takumi think of a fawn, with all the awkwardness of new growth that had her somewhat clumsy and ungainly at times. Still Sumeragi had told him she was a child no longer, though his young mind had had a difficult time seeing Hinoka as an grown up and not... just a sister.

However the court officials and feudal lords who'd attended Hinoka's mogi had gone into tizzy over something else entirely— the state of his sister's hair. After offering prayers, she'd emerged with the priests from the shrine's inner courtyard wearing the clothes of an adult woman. Her face had been painted white; while she was technically unmarried because his sister's hand was promised to the crown prince of Nohr her teeth remained unblackened. Shockingly, rather than her hair having been raised in the manner befitting a woman, the length of it had been cut off!

The long fiery strands, just a few shades darker than their mother's, had been shorn short and the uneven crop framed Hinoka's face strikingly. But it was nearly unheard of, a woman of royal blood cutting off her crowning glory! And in that same moment Hinoka had announced her intentions to begin training as a tenma warrior— which had brought most of the audience to its feet in protest.

They'd argued loudly. Many supposed the first princess had cut her hair out of grief over Ikona's death. Others claimed she was publicly snubbing the traditions of Hoshido. Some went so far as to say she was protesting the alliance with Nohr and cutting her hair to take on the vows of a nun. Their father, the priests, and shrine maidens had stepped in when violence had looked be on the verge of breaking out. While they, Sumeragi, and Ryouma had herded the lords and officials back to the palace to listen to their complaints formally, Takumi had slipped away from Sakura's nursemaid and snuck to his elder sister's side.

Hinoka had remained in the shrine's outer courtyard. In the commotion the offering of rice and sake had been left out, untouched. His sister sat near it and drank from the cup that had been given to her earlier as a symbol for purification. Beside her was the container of sake that had been used by the priests and in their absence, there was no one to keep the drink out of reach. Despite the lingering disquiet with the changes in Hinoka over the recent months, Takumi had approached. He'd watched as she set out another cup, put hers down, and then filled them both.

When he'd gotten close she'd held out the other cup, he'd taken it and asked, "So is it true?"

She'd taken a sip before she said, "Is what true?"

"Are you becoming a nun?"

Hinoka had snickered, a wry smirk on her face. "No! I'm not _that_ scared of Nohr's prince, Marx."

Takumi had wondered if the drink had loosened her tongue, made her admit that she was scared about the arranged marriage, or maybe... maybe Hinoka trusted him enough to reveal that weakness. His child self hadn't known how to react and he'd felt a flush rise in his cheeks so he'd drank thirstily, hoping to chase away the blush and the dryness of his mouth. The sake had burned on his tongue and he'd taken a large swallow— which had caused him to sputter, cough, and spill what was left in the cup.

Hinoka hadn't seemed to mind though, and poured more for both him and herself. He'd had to clear his throat several times, but eventually had asked, "Then why did you cut your hair?"

His sister had gone still, even lowering the mostly full cup to her lap as she'd answered. "Because... I can't look like mother, not anymore. I need them to see me for myself." And then she'd brought the sake cup to her lips, tipped her head back, and swallowed it all in one go.

It was a little fuzzy now after over half a dozen years, but Takumi remembered their gentle mother with her smiling face and her bright hair, long enough to drag on the ground as she walked. In the time following the funeral it'd been both painful and a comfort that his elder sister shared Ikona's face, and it was true that with long hair the resemblance was uncanny. Now he understood Hinoka's logic, how it was her first decision as an adult on how to forge her own path through life— but as a child he'd thought her explanation silly.

"Of course they see Hinoka," his child-self has groused, speech already slurred from the single cup swallowed. "Only with that short hair, now you look like a boy!"

His sister had gasped dramatically then burst into giggles. "Maybe Nohr will make that mistake and send me home!" Her face was flushed from emotion and drink alike. It'd felt like they were playing again, like before their mother had died... Takumi had felt the press of tears against his eyes— so he'd mimicked her and tried to drink his cup in one go.

"Takumi!" There'd been reproach in Hinoka's voice as he'd drained his sake.

"You're the adult who gave it to me," Takumi had countered with a cough. "Just keep watching over me, and I'll be fine." His words had made his sister smile, a bit sadly, then they came to an agreement that one night wouldn't do them any true harm.

But before they'd been able to refill their sake cups, two other people had walked into the courtyard— their father's retainer, Orochi, and his adviser, Yukimura. Caught red-handed, it hadn't seemed to matter that Hinoka had just been publicly declared an adult. Orochi took the container of sake away while Yukimura pulled them both to their feet, the disapproval on his face had said everything his silence hadn't.

Hinoka had wobbled but followed Orochi without protest when the woman had led her by the hand towards the palace. Takumi had been barely able stand. Yukimura had lifted him over his shoulder as if he'd been a babe in arms still, and ignored Takumi's loud protests that had echoed off the shrine walls as they'd left the courtyard.

But the next morning, despite the way his head had felt like it'd been split open with a club, the troubled thoughts over his sister had been put to rest. And Takumi had asked his father if he could begin training with weapons too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for likely getting the mogi ceremony completely wrong. I tried my best.
> 
> Also there's one more chapter to come, this is a two-shot.


	2. Genpuku

Takumi knew Hinoka liked to watch him practice at the archery butts. He'd known this fact since he was small.

The first time he landed an arrow on the target, she'd shouted with a swell of sisterly pride at his accomplishment. It'd been far from the bullseye, such accuracy took years of practice until the craft was mastered. Still she’d put a hand to Takumi’s hair when he had finished, mussed it affectionately, and praised his efforts. His child-self had made a face and pushed her hand from his head. Then he'd raised such a fuss, protesting such treatment and her praise, that ever after Hinoka had taken to standing back along the stone wall of the training yard where she thought her presence would go unnoticed. As a child Takumi would scowl whenever he caught sight of his sister at the archery range, but as he grew older he only did such things when he found her standing brazenly out in the open.

His elder sister was not the only one to drop in during those early years.

When he had finished his own training with the sword, Ryouma would sometimes come to assist Takumi with a steadying hand under his elbow. Other times he'd put his hands on Takumi’s shoulders, straighten his body's posture, never shouting but instead instructing with a patient tone that'd fill his chest with the warm feeling of confidence. He remembered how Ryouma chided his child-self away from the bad habit of poking his tongue out the corner from his mouth. Instead he’d narrow his eyes as he took aim for the center of the target with his older brother standing beside him. Takumi had not tried to chase Ryouma away, despite the fact most of his childhood efforts had sailed well over the top or side of the target and missed perfection completely in the face of his best efforts.

There’d been something reassuring about Ryouma’s stoic instruction, perhaps the similarity to his lessons with the tutors. Unlike Hinoka’s overenthusiastic praise, which perhaps had been too familiar to when they’d played as children. The time he’d begun to train Takumi had been desperate to grow up. So his child-self had looked to his brother who was already an adult, and turned away from the sister who was still finding her own way.

As the years passed his hands grew steady not only with a bow and arrow but also around the hilt of a katana. No longer did his elder siblings have time to watch him in the practice yards, beside him or from the shadows. Ryouma was already deeply embroiled in his obligations as high prince and within the court. Hinoka had grown more and more involved with the duties of a tenma warrior, while still supervising the staff and household as a royal lady should. They were all busy and their father had traveled often. Only when there was no one watching him, from the shadows or otherwise, did Takumi’s young mind realize what he had missed.

Once though as an adolescent, Takumi had been the one who hid and watched as Hinoka trained with a naginata.

His sister had preforming drills in the practice yard, alone and in the full gear of her tenma warrior uniform under the afternoon sun. The weapon she’d practiced with had not been a ko-naginata with the smaller edge and lighter haft that Oboro carried with her, but an ō-naginata with its long blade and heavy pole— a weapon meant to be used with brute force against armored foes on the battlefield. Yet his sister hadn’t appeared to have been taxed by the difference in the slightest. She moved through her kata with a smooth speed that indicated years invested in practice.

Yet when he’d watched Hinoka's movements it had been different than witnessing a samurai practice with his sword. The circular execution of his sister's weapon made Takumi think of a dance, fluid and full of grace despite the power and deadly intent that could’ve been behind it. He had seen why some said that the naginata was a weapon suited for women who chose to be warriors. Though he’d found the bluster that swords were more fit for men a silly argument— considering he’d practiced a few times with Kazahana for Sakura’s sake and there’d been nothing soft or feminine about the way she’d beaten him bloody.

Although it had been a bit difficult to appreciate the sight through the leaves of shrubbery. That day his adolescent-self had taken a vantage point from behind the foliage of Shirazaki castle's practice yard, with the intent of observing without being observed in turn. He’d already been accustomed to settling in one spot without moving for long periods from his habit of hunting. There’d been no guards near the area, likely ordered away if his sister had requested privacy, so the only pair of eyes he’d had to worry about was hers. Yet the anxiety of possibly being spotted and then questioned had swirled about him that day and sorely tested his limits.

Although many of the traditionally-minded feudal lords hadn't approved of Hinoka's decision to join the tenma warriors, their ladies had been another matter. Many noblewomen had cut their hair short in support of the high princess, and some daughters had even joined the skyhorse riders or pledged themselves as temple priestesses. Suddenly it was fashionable for highborn women to serve Hoshido in such a way— at least for those more forward thinking.

Hinoka was no longer alone in the army… but it was only a matter of time before she left the kingdom to go west as had been promised.

That shrinking window had been what drove his adolescent self to watch Hinoka without her knowledge. His heart had felt like a tangle regarding his older sister and he’d wanted a chance to try and straighten his emotions out by his own efforts. So Takumi had hidden and watched, long into the day as she continually drilled. When the shadows had grown long with the setting of the sun he'd been about to leave when another tenma warrior arrived in the royal practice yard, a man with hair of a darker red.

The rider had worn a similar uniform and had brought a kettle of water and a towel with him. She had taken the offerings and they had conversed, though quietly enough that Takumi hadn’t been able to make out what words were said. Then he’d nearly fallen into the shrub when Hinoka reached a hand up, cupped the man’s face and brought him down for a kiss on the mouth. A thousand questions had shot through Takumi’s mind as he watched as his sister had led the man by the hand to the storehouse where the practice weapons were kept and had shut the door behind them.

After he counted to ten Takumi had finally unfolded his body from the hiding place; stifled his groans as he’d stretched the kinks out of his limbs. Meanwhile his mind had still raced with the discovery. He would never had guessed his older sister had an admirer, let alone lover! She hadn’t received any anonymous gifts at the castle or worn any out-of-place favors, so what he’d just witnessed was without a doubt a well-kept secret.

His adolescent-self had been torn on what to do. It was well known that Hinoka’s hand in marriage was promised to the crown prince of Nohr, that arrangement destroyed any chance for a relationship in Hoshido to survive after the marriage occurred. But Takumi had just witnessed her kiss that tenma warrior, bold as brass, and he’d been old enough at that time to know that more than kissing occurred inside that storehouse.

In Hoshido before a person was married having admirers and exchanging poems were permitted, even encouraged. Exploration in youth was said to help tempter appetites in subsequent years, as seeking amorous partners outside of one's spouse after marriage was highly dishonorable. There were many ugly stories in court of what happened to the unfaithful, as were the rumors of was to be done should a baby be born outside of wedlock— but the latter were quickly hushed up.

In that moment though, his adolescent-self had connected the secrecy to the alliance’s arrangement and it had seemingly all made sense to his young mind. While fearing future in Nohr his sister had fallen in love with a Hoshidan— but they knew if made public their father would’ve never approve and might separate them. With this realization Takumi had chosen a new hiding place within the practice yard, closer to the storehouse but not so close that he might overhear something crass, and he’d waited.

Not too long afterward the man had emerged from the storehouse, with his sister at his heels. Takumi’d watched as the male tenma warrior had straightened his uniform and smoothed back his hair until he looked no worse for wear. The wildness of his sister’s short locks hid what otherwise might’ve been a suspicious muss, but there was a clear wrinkle at the waist of her uniform that she hadn’t bothered to even out. It was something he couldn’t help but notice when he’d stepped out from his hiding place.

Both his sister’s and the tenma warrior’s eyes had widened at the sight of him, yet the man with dark red hair reacted first. Regathering his composure, the man had turned to face him, bowed respectfully, and greeted, “Prince Takumi.”

Able to view his face without obstruction Takumi had finally recognized the male tenma warrior— Tsubaki of the noble Gozen family, one of the retainers to his younger sister Sakura.

They’d been formally introduced twice before. Months earlier, on a night of a fierce storm Sakura had gone missing in the forest not far from Shirazaki. This man and Hinoka had been the first to realize and their combined efforts found Hoshido's second princess within the same night. Although Takumi had only heard about the incident secondhand, mostly courtiers grumbling over the princesses' recklessness, their father had rewarded Tsubaki for his bravery in a formal ceremony before the court. Then they’d met again after Sakura formally appointed the man as her second retainer.

“Tsubaki, please go on ahead.” Hinoka had interrupted the tense silence with an order, her eyes not upon the man but locked on himself. “I need to speak with my brother alone.”

The tenma warrior bowed to her, his form impeccable, and then turned sharply on his heel, strode away from the practice yard, and took the kettle with him.

The moment he was out of sight, Hinoka had spoken with a hard tone. “Takumi, what’re you doing-”

“I wanted to see you.” He hadn’t been about to admit he’d be there for half of the day, so his adolescent-self had stretched the truth. “Seeing him was an accident. Hinoka, what’re _you_ doing?”

His sister hadn’t answered. Instead she’d simply tipped her chin and defiantly held his gaze. So he’d asked, “There haven’t been any gifts of courtship, why the secrecy?” Again his question was met with silence, so he prodded further. “Do you hide that man because you are ashamed?”

“What?” That finally had gotten a reaction. “Why would you think that.”

Takumi’d thrown up his arms in exasperation. "If you aren't ashamed of this, then why do you hide it? Ryouma has openly sent courting gifts even if those affairs will go nowhere. Why don’t you do the same, Hinoka?"

"Because of your exact reaction!” After she’d spat out the words, his sister had walked until she could not go closer to Takumi without touching. “Tsubaki and I came to a private agreement, we know this relationship will end. But many lords would do as you're doing and would try to use him to anchor me here. Try to discard the word of the king!"

"I'm not-" Takumi had stopped, exhaled sharply, and tamped down on his building temper. "That's not my aim. I thought... I thought you might be ashamed because you’ve a duty yet have fallen in love."

Hinoka's hard gaze had softened at the mention of love, and in that moment he had spied a deep sadness in his sister's eyes. "I know better than that..." She 'd closed her eyes for a long moment before she admitted, "While I value Tsubaki as a friend and partner, we aren't consorting out of love."

Takumi had been old enough at the time to know about the activities she implied but young enough not to fully understand how she could tryst with someone she did not love.

But in that moment his adolescent-self had remained fixed upon his earlier conclusion and insisted. “I can help you run away.” Hinoka had looked at him with eyes wide with shock, her mouth open but uttered no words. So he’d continued, “Some of the palace guard adopted a girl who was from a branch of their family that were merchants. If I asked I’m sure she could convince a caravan that you and your admirer were just travelers. You could go to Izumo or the Fire Clan before anyone realized you were missing, make a new life for yourselves.”

There was a long quiet, long enough that Takumi had feared his sister would go silent once more. But finally, his sister had asked, “Takumi, why’re you offering this?”

In that moment he’d remembered the bright banner of her long hair, her carefree laughter, and how she’d always been eager to play with her baby brother— how all these things had been cut off then buried by the years. He remembered the first night he’d tasted sake, how Hinoka had confessed her fear of Nohr yet still moved forward despite of it. How just that day he’d seen her strong and sure in the movements of the naginata, a warrior who he didn’t quite know.

Takumi had fought down the urge to look away as he’d answered, “Because you deserve to be happy.”

Immediately his sister had drawn him into her embrace, arms like iron bands about his shoulders.

“That you care makes me happy!” He’d felt it as she gave a laugh that hitched with a sob. “But I won’t run away, not even for love.”

Though it was irrational Takumi had been stung by the rejection and felt bitter— despite having known the reasons why his sister had refused. Because of the alliance, because of the betrothal, because of her duty as a princess of Hoshido. Then and now he blamed Nohr, for taking away his older sister and her happiness. But when he’d told Hinoka as much, that Hoshido had fended off those barbarians for over a century and that they should be unafraid to do so again— she’d drawn away from the hug to hold him as a captive audience as she’d lectured on why he was wrong.

All those moments between himself and Hinoka were memories of the past, when they'd both been younger.

He was no longer a child, with the compound bamboo bow bigger than he’d been tall. He was able to lift and draw an arrow smoothly, no longer did he struggle to barely keep it aloft with his tiny, spindly arms. Whenever Takumi drew an arrow he was transformed. His single, clear focus was evident in every muscle of his body, every line of his face. His aim didn’t waver but instead struck true.

On the first day of the new year Takumi's ceremony for attaining manhood occurred, Sumeragi had determined he had the requisite skills and maturity to accept the responsibilities of adulthood. At the temple Takumi had worn adult clothes, his hair up in a high ponytail with the kammuri firmly atop his head. He had drunken the purifying sake just the one cup —waited as the priest waved the tamagushi, and he had offered prayers to the Dawn Dragon. His father, Hoshido's king, had given him not only a katana but their kingdom’s sacred treasure the Fuujinkyuu.

Takumi was a man now, officially recognized, at six-and-ten years of age.

In this same year the time had come for Hinoka to journey to Nohr and be wed to its crown prince.

The day of the departure Takumi had been up since night turned to morning, unable to sleep for dreams of wandering Shirazaki and finding it completely empty. His family, their retainers, and a handful of servants were preparing for the journey to Nohr. The long journey would involve reaching to the docks, crossing the ocean, and then traveling across land. Only himself, his retainers, and Yukimura would be staying in Hoshido.

The rising sun began to pinken the sky, everything had been packed the night before, already all participants were fully dressed and ready to leave. The entire castle staff had turned out to bid the high princess goodbye. Some openly wept, likely overcome by emotion by the fact that the princess who’d been acting as lady of the household since she was a little girl would soon be gone. Takumi was waiting for them all to finish before approaching his sister himself.

Takumi took a moment to marvel at how much he'd grown from a small boy who trailed after his older siblings. He would never be as tall and broad as his brother Ryouma, but neither did Hinoka tower over him. In fact, she wasn't much taller than the height she'd reached at her mogi. And yet she was very different from that day. There was nothing clumsy in her movements and her limbs held muscle, her figure was that of a mature woman and the way she held herself with the confidence of a warrior. He had finally had a late growth spurt, Takumi was now above Hinoka’s height, and he thought he might be faster than her on foot, too. In a race he could catch her if he tried to, but such things were child’s play, and neither of them were children anymore.

Hinoka’d walked the path chosen on the day of her mogi, and her footing seemed sure. Although he’d gone through his own coming-of-age ceremony, he’d found his own footing more treacherous. All of the concessions that were being made for their long-time enemy, made Takumi feel like Hoshido was being led along a narrow bridge over a swollen river. But his father's and elder sibling's dedication to achieving this peace made such thoughts seem disgraceful.

Although Hinoka had so obstinately gone against what the feudal lords considered traditionally Hoshidan, Takumi wondered how they were blind to the ways she paid homage to their kingdom, their people, with pride. The fact that she was willing to act as a sacrifice for the peace they’d enjoy while she spent the remainder of her days in Nohr— he didn’t think she owed them anything, it was in fact the opposite. How could Hoshido possibly repay her?

While he’d been embroiled in his thoughts, his older brother had come to stand beside him. “Hinoka will worry if she sees you upset,” Ryouma didn’t whisper, but his voice was quiet enough not to carry. “If it puts your mind at ease, the intelligence we’ve gathered concerning Nohr paints their crown prince as a decent if strict man.”

Takumi felt a rush of annoyance ripple through his veins. His own volume hushed, even if he still snapped, “Hinoka shouldn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to.”

Ryouma’s tone remained even as he said, “It's hardly so simple. As royalty our lives are not our own to live, we must instead give everything for the good of our kingdom.”

Takumi's nostrils flared as he exhaled with a huff, but his brother simply remained silent as always. Ryouma was always so meditative, so hard to read, and so utterly unlike himself in that way.

His brother spoke only truths yet Takumi still found them cruel— that their sister should have to go so very far away from home and marry a man that she didn't love. Although the latter seemed to be the trend now, as Sakura's betrothal had been arranged before she could even talk and he knew firsthand that his older brother had been ambivalent towards his Nohrian bride when she'd first arrived. Sumeragi had even taken Takumi aside to discuss matters of marriage— how his own might also be able to benefit Hoshido should he be able to woo the daughter of the Fire Clan's Chieftain. It was enough to tempt Takumi to run away from the castle and all its politics!

But the less emotional side of him had already disregarded that impulse. He knew that his own mother had met his father through a matchmaker and only because Ikona had been born to one of the oldest noble bloodlines of Hoshido. If she had belonged to a merchant’s family, or a branch of one of the families subservient to the royal family, let alone a peasant— they never would’ve met. But still they'd been permitted time for courting, and he knew that Sumeragi felt tender feelings for their mother still even after all these living as a widower.

Ryouma’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality, and he realized that all the line of castle staff saying goodbye was gone. “She’ll miss you at the wedding.” His brother said before he lifted his hand and walked off, presumably to join his wife and their portion of the entourage.

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Takumi swiftly joined his older sister before she could wander elsewhere. This worry seemed to be for naught though, as partway through his approach she’d turned her head and watched him— rooted to the spot. When he stood before her there was an awkward moment where his mind went blank and he stood before her speechless. Thankfully Hinoka didn’t seem to require words, she took one of his hands in both of her own.

Idly, he remembered as children when they would lay their hands palm to palm and measured their differences. Now he thought on how large his hands had become compared to hers. Yet their skin felt the same, callused from work in the practice yard, rough and dry from where the grip on a weapon had grown familiar. They were both warriors, and that gave him a thought to speak upon.

Takumi made sure to meet his sister's gaze as he acknowledged, "You're going, to subdue the enemy without fighting."

"I'd rather you not regard our sister-in-law and my groom as enemies," Hinoka’s tone gave away her annoyance. “We’re not at war with Nohr, Takumi.”

He found it difficult to view the kingdom of Nohr as anything other than the enemy, with how they were breaking apart his family for their own convenience. But Ryouma’s wife had shown no ill-will or ill-intent thus far, despite the poor reception from most of the court. So he admitted, “I know that. Princess Camilla’s proven herself a trustworthy ally.”

She sighed at his words, likely relieved. But her eyes seemed to search his as she asked, “Will you give Prince Marx that same chance?”

Takumi wondered if he’d ever even meet the man in person. What with how the Nohrian crown prince failed to attend the wedding last year and since Takumi needed to stay and keep an eye on those who’d arrived in the capital for sankin-kotai. But he promised her, “For you, I will.” She thanked him, and he almost wish she hadn’t.

Because Hinoka was leaving, for good, while he got to stay behind in their home— it was all unfair and he might not had felt so bad if she hadn’t been so gracious about it. Still, he brought up his free hand and covered hers, giving a gentle squeeze as he said, “Sayonara, big sister.”

He watched as Hinoka blinked angrily, willing the tears to remain at bay, as she always did since their mother had died and she'd decided that she would have to be the strong one. But her lips quirked into a smile as she bid Takumi farewell, “Sayonara, little brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we reach the moral of the story: Takumi has a hard time understanding Hinoka, and vise versa.
> 
> There's a paraphrase of Sun Tzu, referencing the line, "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."


End file.
